if you just lay here with me
by maggiequeen
Summary: "I love you." "Stop saying that." / /For Greydawning's prompt at the puck/rachel drabble meme.


Rachel lays completely tense on her previously comfortable spot on her bed, on her stomach facing her laptop while Noah, sitting against the headboard, plays with the extension of smooth leg on his lap.

This is not the kind of conversations she wants to have on a Sunday afternoon while she deletes the negative feedback that blackens the MySpace video she posted last night. It's not the kind of conversations she wants to have at all, really, and Noah knows that. Or _should_ know that. Whatever. He's crossing an invisible, yet quite tangible line here, one she's made perfectly clear she wants them to stay far, far away from.

And yet there he is, watching, amused, as she glares at her computer like it offended her, patiently waiting, stroking his callous fingers up her calf to her knee and down to her toes. No less than five minutes ago she was considering putting her task away and letting him have his way with her. Now she's evaluating the most effective way to kick him out of her house and, by extension, her life.

"I love you," he repeats, like it wasn't bad enough to hear it the first time around.

"Shut it Puckerman," she grits out, cheeks rapidly flushing red.

"But I do," he insists eerily calm. "I love you Rach."

"Stop it," she kicks his hand away and sits down in a huff, facing him so the sheer intensity of her anger doesn't escape him. "You're ruining everything."

"'M not," he smirks like the devil he is, crawls over till she's flat on her back and he's hovering over her. He leans down to kiss _that_ spot on her neck, the one he knows drives completely crazy and makes her go putty (it's not fair! They're in the middle of an argument!) and whispers in her ear "Love you."

She tries to slap him. His reflexes are sharp, he catches her flying hand before it makes contact with his stupid (gorgeous) face and pins it above her head. She tries again with her other hand, and what a stupid move that turns out to be when he catches it just as easily and brings it up to join her captive hand under the grip of his larger one. He makes quick work of her legs by holding them down with his strong thigh, so there goes any chance she had of breaking free by kicking him where she knows will hurt him the most.

She's at his mercy and she wishes she'd put on something a little less revealing. Her thin silk robe gapes across her chest and the thing barely reaches her thighs so she's sure she makes quite a vision laying there completely exposed to him.

It shouldn't turn her on so much.

Of course, he knows this. Knows _her_, actually.

He kisses her and her resolve to keep her lips tightly pressed fades in a heartbeat. He's just that good of a kisser and she wants him just that much.

He's also good with his hands. Or hand, given that he still has one busy holding down her now pliant hands. The other one tracks down her neck, her torso, twisting and pulling nipples, tickling her ribcage, dipping inside her navel. It easily finds it's way into her panties, and she's moaning and panting in no time.

He lands sweet kisses on her lips, cheeks, nose, neck. He whispers 'I love you' in her ear over and over again and frankly, she can't contain the helpless purring or the moaning or the way she wiggles under him and spreads her thighs wider so that he has better access. She can't hold back her orgasm, or it's intensity, and she can't not return his eager kiss.

(She doesn't _want_ to.)

She also can't make the knot in her stomach dissipate. Going into their arrangement, Rachel was abundantly clear that she wanted to keep things simple and casual. She and Noah are friends, really good ones as a matter of fact, and they happen to have excellent chemistry in all things musical. Said chemistry coincidentally extends to the bedroom also and she would be the first to admit (only not out loud... unless he asks, which he has) that Noah Puckerman has probably ruined her for other men. But that has absolutely nothing to do with love. They enjoy one another without the unnecessary complications feelings are so prone to bring about.

And relationships always turn out bad. Or at least hers do. And his. She believed they had both reached the point in their admittedly short lives where they've learned that love and happily ever afters just aren't in their cards and so they should make the most of their lives without worrying about soul mates and epic love stories or whether or not they're good enough to love and be loved. She knows she sounds cynic and dramatic, but seventeen year old Rachel Berry is not cut out for love. Her history with relationships is rocky at best and she's just not girlfriend material, at least not now (maybe when she's older and famous and when she feels the need to reproduce and bring little Rachels to this world...). And that four letter word has caused her enough damage already. She doesn't want to hear it again and get her hopes up, unrealistic as they tend to be, only to end up with a broken heart.

With that in mind, she rises from her post coital bliss and slaps Noah across his handsome face.

"Ouch!" he yelps, the smug grin he's been sporting for the last however many minutes faltering slightly, only to come back in full force when he tackles her back to the mattress and plants a noisy kiss on her lips. "Love you," he says obnoxiously.

"Stop saying that!" she screeches, pushing away to pace the length of her bedroom.

He just sits there on the middle of her bed, following her with his stupid, beautiful eyes and smiling an idiotic, gorgeous smile. "How can you be so calm?" she snaps, hands fisting at her sides. "Aren't you even a tiny bit upset? You're declaring your love for me and I'm vehemently rejecting it and _you're smiling?_"

"You're hot when you're pissed," he waggles his eyebrows and then shrugs "And I'm actually kinda glad I'm not the emotionally stunned one on this relationship for a change."

"We're not in a relationship!" she shouts, throwing her hands in the air like a mad woman.

"Yeah we are." He stands up and stretches (so she loses focus a little when she watches his muscles contract and relax, so what? Just because she's angry at him doesn't mean she can't appreciate a fine specimen of raw masculinity when she sees one), retrieves his phone and keys from their spot on her dresser and pecks her pouting lips on his way to the door. "Gotta go babe. Fight Club waits for nobody."

She breathes a sigh of relief when she hears his truck drive off. Noah's unexpected feelings are a mayor complication, one she can work her way around better if he's not around while she fuming, telling her he loves her just to annoy her. Now that he's gone she can analyze their... _relationship_... and figure out her next step.

She cares about him. A lot. If she were silly she'd be falling for him, but she's not so she isn't. She doesn't want to lose what they have but she's (dare she say it?) too scared to move in the direction Noah obviously wants to steer her on.

She momentarily imagines what life would be if they went their separate ways. He'd hurt, having his feelings un-returned and she _hates_ that she's the one hurting him this time around. He has so much to give and there's a lucky girl out there who would no doubt relish in his love and nurture it and she'd love him back and be his happily ever after.

_That bitch._

They'd cross paths on the hallways and classes and glee and _life_ and they would acknowledge one another, but they could never be friends like they are now or even the way they were before they added benefits to their friendship.

She'll always be the girl who didn't want his love and he'll always be the boy she was too afraid to love back.

Her phone beeps on her nightstand snapping her out of her reverie, the screen lighted with a new text from Noah.

_luv u bb_

She stares at the screen and the aforementioned knot in her stomach it's making its presence known with a serious of gut twisting somersaults. Her mouth's gone completely dry and her eyes are fighting back tears she refuses to shed over what may just turn out to be another disappointment and a broken heart.

She's typed a reply and hit send before she realizes what she's doing.

_Why?_

Noah's answer comes almost immediately.

_why not?_

She spends so much time staring at those words she's genuinely startled when a new text comes in.

_u r gonna luv me 2. promise_

If she lets herself, yes, she's positive of that.

It'll be interesting watching him try to convince her.

ooo

**Toughts anyone? Reviews are my crack ;)**


End file.
